Thief (The Key to Magic Book 7)

by H. Jonas Rhynedahll

  Of late, the old man's information had become more cryptic in nature. Waleck had told him that it was better that he find out the details for himself.

  As the feeling continued to grow that this conversation was proceeding in the manner of a last farewell, Mar ate another spoonful of beans, then asked, "What else do your dreams tell you?"

  "Nali will encounter difficulties in a Szillarn town called Bucket in two years' time and require some minor assistance from you. After you introduce her to a man named Elbaerwgt, the rest will sort itself out." The old man paused.

  "What else?" Mar pressed.

  "You are still a king."

  "No. The Blood Oath is broken."

  "This is a new, stronger magic, one that you created entirely by your own actions. You are king not of just the Mhajhkaeirii and the Khalarii, but of all the people that you have given succor to."

  "I will not rule. I don't have to. Lord Ghorn is emperor now."

  "You are king not to rule, but to protect and defend, to guide and educate, and to heal and strengthen."

  Telriy slammed her spoon onto the table, drawing startled glances from the other diners. Some of the legionnaires and marines made to rise, but Mar calmed them with a glance.

  "Mar does not belong to you any more!" Telriy ground out. "He's mine and Celly's!"

  The old man did not flinch. "Yes, he is and you shall keep him." He looked down at his bowl. It was empty. "It is time for me to go. Walk out with me, Mar, if you would."

  Telriy's glare was piercing.

  "I'll come right back," Mar promised her.

  "Make sure you do!" she seethed.

  With a wane smile in way of reassurance, he stood and moved with the old man out into the courtyard.

  It was already twilight and no one else was about. With the North once again at peace and Mar's magic unmatched, Telriy had decreed that the guards should eat regular meals with everyone else.

  One unexpected being was present. The sorrel stood tied to an iron ring mounted to one of the columns that supported the second floor balcony.

  "You found Horse," Mar said, not bothering to conceal his surprise. "When Aelwyrd told me that he had run off, I thought that I had seen the last of him."

  Waleck waggled his head. "He found me. He is more magic than he is flesh, now."

  Mar scowled. "The magic finally corrupted him completely."

  "Magic is not evil, Mar. Men are evil and good and all things in between. Magic is not a corruption. It is a tool. Horse has found a purpose that suits him and so have I."

  "What purpose is that?"

  "He and I will wander undertime and sort out future difficulties in your stead. With my dreams and Horse's sense of direction, we are better suited to the task. As a master of time and space, you have the choice to live in the moment. Take it."

  Mar did not bother to make a token protest. More than anything else, he wanted to stay with Telriy. "Watching over the world is a labor that will never end."

  "Oh, I shan't worry about forever. My sprites will manage a few hundred years, perhaps a few thousand with the medic and his autodoc. It is my destiny to endure the centuries and it is your destiny to enjoy the life that you have built. Goodbye, Mar. I will see you soon enough."

  As Mar stood silently watching, Waleck walked to Horse, mounted, and then let the sorrel carry him away.

  EPILOGUE

  Thirteenthday, Waxing, Second Wintermoon, 1658 After the Founding of the Empire

  The Palace

  The wizard appeared while Telriy, the new baby, and the children slept on, oblivious.

  Mar's unease woke him with a warning and for once that warning included a clear indication of an exact time and place. He had perhaps an hour.

  He slipped out of his and Telriy's bed without disturbing her or newborn Telia, drew on trousers and shirt in the dark but left off his boots, then went out into the corridor, not bothering with the door or even the walls. He paused only to check on the other children and found all of them likewise sound asleep.

  Celly was still holding the book that she had snuck into her room. He carefully slid the book -- Bheurnum's Comprehendium of Spring Flowers (with Illustrations) -- from underneath her hands and snuffed out the small ethereal light that she had left hanging near the headboard.

  Myr also had his own room, and his oldest son, once again disobeying his mother, once again had his puppy in bed with him. The dog opened its eyes and whined when Mar looked in but he told it to go back to sleep and it did.

  The twins Wilhmar and Hhrahlden and toddling Yheaiy shared a room. All was well there, with only dolls and toys in place of books and puppies.

  The rest of the palace was empty and quiet. No guards were needed. Only wizards and those who could call on the services of wizards could find a way through undertime to get around the illusions and wards that protected it.

  Still padding silently on bare feet, he went out onto the balcony. There was snow out upon the terrace and the mountainside, nearly half an armlength of it, but the air was clear and the temperature ward kept the cold at bay. Telriy had ruled that their holiday should be in the winter so that the children could play in the snow, even though it was late summer at their home on the Monolith.

  He sank onto a couch and leaned back in a relaxed pose. Knowing an ethereal light would wake Telriy, he just sat in the near dark, watching the stars.

  This once, in spite of all that had gone before, he had decided to speak with the wizard.

  When Zso appeared, he was much more uncertain, much more harried, and much more desperate.

  The wizard immediately raised his hands and pleaded. "Please don't kill me again!"

  Mar remained where he was. "If you want to live, you should leave and never return."

  Zso lowered his hands, but he still seemed on edge, his gaze sliding back and forth.

  "You must come back with me, Mar!"

  "No."

  "Do you realize that billions of people -- men, women, and children who have no share at all in the blame for the conflict -- will die? That the art and history of millennia will be irrevocably destroyed? That the fantastic achievements of the greatest magical civilization to ever exist will be wiped out as if they had never been?"

  "You're a wizard. You could save the people, the art and the history, and the achievements. Or, at least, some of them."

  Zso gave an angry shake of his head. "I have tried. I cannot! I do not have the skill to avert the cataclysm. A hundred times I have intervened, removing those that would incite the final battle, but a hundred times another arose to bring the end. There is an irresistible inertia to those events and no combination of sequence changes will alter the end result. There is nothing that I can do that will stop them."

  "I know that you cannot prevent the war. But the people -- many of them -- and much of the rest could be rescued by your wizardry. The sky people have built a shining city at Pyra and they would welcome everyone that you brought to them."

  "I could save a hundred, a thousand, even a million," the wizard groused with a darkening expression, "but it would not be enough. Only a wizard who has a naturally superior affinity for the ether and full proficiency in every magical discipline has the power to avert the cataclysm. You were bred for this one purpose, Mar. It is your destiny to save the world."

  "I can't save your world. It can't be saved."

  "It can and you can and you must."

  "I will never go with you, Zso."

  A pistol appeared in Zso's hand. "Your magic cannot stop these bullets. The universe in which they were created is not this one. You will come with me now or you will die. Make your choice."

  As silent as a thief, Waleck walked out of the shadows, poniard drawn. A single glint of starlight flashed off the blade as he struck.

  This Zso died as had all the others before him, a life wasted in a futile pursuit.

  A wizard could not save everyone and everything.

  But that did not mean that a wizard
should not help those that he could.

  Mar swept the corpse into the heart of undertime before a drop of blood could fall to stain the tiles.

  "I wonder if they will ever give up," he said to the old man

  "I think this is perhaps the last. The end of the old world took the monks and the monastery just as it took everything else. The various versions of Zso which still exist are adrift in undertime without support and, sprites and spells notwithstanding, none of them are immortal. Furthermore, I am quite certain that most of them are hopelessly insane." Waleck sheathed his knife. "At some point, they will all be gone."

  Mar nodded. "You should stay. Have breakfast. The children would be happy to see you and Telriy has been asking after Horse."

  The old man gave a slight shrug. "I think I shall. At the moment, Horse shows no yearning to continue his wanderings."

  Mar gestured at the chair that the old man always used. The children called it "Papa's Chair" and none of them would sit upon it unless the old man was visiting.

  "I've finally found another clue," Mar said, smiling as he sank back into his own seat.

  "How many are left now? Six?"

  "No, just three. I'm going to collect two in the next year or so, but I think that I will save the last."

  Searching for the remaining texts was his favorite pastime. As Telriy knew that Mar could simply wait to read the book when Oyraebos finished writing it (before Waleck and Horse took the severed texts back so that various of broken nhBreen's phantoms could hide them and subsequent history could scatter them), Telriy thought the entire endeavor nonsensical and unproductive. But she did not complain overmuch when the notion struck him to gallivant off on one of his short adventures. Of course, she and the children always came along.

  "For some special occasion?"

  "For when you can come with us."

  "For when Horse ceases to wander altogether?"

  "Yes."

  "That may be some time."

  "We found the first together. We should find the last the same way."

  "I suppose that we might as well. Well, what shall we be having for breakfast?"

  Addendum

  The Forty-Nine (give or take) Gods

  (One scholarly accounting numbers the Forty-Nine at three hundred and eight distinct deities. This sum is, naturally, subject to strident dispute.)

  Aenhishk'lhe, Stepchild of the Leafy Goddess

  Awandrehachor, God of Poems and Sonnets

  Alosth, Sublime Half-Quarter-Goddess of the Rapine of Civilization

  Bhalrgam, Mystical Lord of the Fleet of Foot

  Bhenthiabuka, God of Condiments

  Bhist-gem-naet, fertility goddess

  Bhurghrah, God of Waste, Sewage, and Refuse

  Bhizg'g, God of the Malformed and patron of all beggars.

  Bligyld, Goddess of Eternal Hatred.

  Borloi'gh'nyh, Archfriend of Arsonists and Clumsy Fools

  Chaoel, Ascending Goddess of the Marvelous Loom

  Cyhalis’ts’psqo, God of Boats, ships, rafts, and buckets of all sorts

  Ephtehg’rha, Lord of Shipwrecks

  Fflygao, the Under Oligarch of Foliage

  Gheshuai -- Chief Suzerain of Unhappy Marriages, Cuckolds, and Oppressed Husbands

  Gwolth, Invisible Ultimate Priestess of the Arcane Rites of Sand

  Gz’l, God of Heretics

  J'yorstagnoephiactle, Patron of Rat Catchers.

  Knorthrha the Night God

  Luftorh, God of the Oceans

  Mar, Holy Champion and Righteous Emissary of All the Gods

  Mar, Beloved of the Gods (Alternate avatar)

  Mhokh, God of Death

  Mehl-shzu, God of Nautical Trades

  Myrae’n the Snake Goddess

  Nhal-bhy-chu, Goddess Mother of Chance Events

  Nhish, Goddess of Grain

  N'm, God of Seafood

  Oahkthegk, God-Regent of mountains and deserts (and all ancillary terrain, inhabitants, and conditions)

  Oos'ghlsiana, Mistress of Forests, Seedlings, and Shade.

  Pernaphrhan, Overseer of Trickery

  Plegh, The Unknowing God

  Ptem-ko-ah, God of the Outerworld

  Pwrll, Upright Goddess of Household Pets. The Seventy-Eight Handmaidens of Pwrll are often depicted as animalistic spirits in the forms of cats and dogs.

  Phrusht, Guardian of the Drowned

  Rwalkahn, Demigod of Righteous Vengeance

  Rwalkahn, in his rival persona as 32nd Avatar of Pernaphrhan

  S'lskaigho, Protector of Forgotten Things

  Shurzha, God of Purity

  Soohlmed, God of Idiocy

  Thiallia, Goddess of Compassion

  Trhoozh, Master of Luck

  W’aerliq, God of Forests, Meadows, and Trees in general. In some cultures, also the God of the Hunt.

  z'm, Demigoddess of Jocularity

  Zzgssii, the Leafy Goddess, whose various incarnations are distinguished by the placement of key leaves in her bodice

  Zsnigh-mhi, Demigod of Tile roofs, Sheds, and Cisterns

  Military Ranks of the Reconstituted Empire

  (Adapted from Mhajhkaeirii'n practice)

  Prince-Commander –Supreme commander of all Mhajhkaeirii forces.

  High-Captain – Marine rank. Commands a brigade (five troops).

  Knight-Commander – Legion rank. Commands five legions. (Corps)

  Captain – Marine rank. Commands a full Troop (400 men)

  Coirneal (Imperial Addition) -- Legion and marine rank.

  Maidsear (Imperial Addition) -- Legion and marine rank.

  Commander – Legion rank. Commands a full Legion (1000 men)

  Vice-Captain – Marine rank. Commands a half-troop (200 men)

  Subaltern – Marine rank. Commands a quarter-troop (100 men)

  Vice-Commander –Legion Rank. Commands five sections (500 men).

  Legate – Legion rank. Commands a Section (100 men).

  Quaestor -- Legion Quartermaster rank equivalent to Subaltern/Legate.

  Fugleman – Commands a file (6 quads, 25 men including the Fugleman)

  Ceannaire -- Commands of a quad

  Legionnaire

  Superior Armsman -- Militia rank

  Trainee

  A note regarding the Imperial Calendar:

  The Imperial year consists of thirteen lunar months of twenty-eight days each: First through Third Springmoon, First through Third Summermoon, Harvestmoon, First through Third Autumnmoon, and First through Third Wintermoon. Each month is divided into two fortnights, Waxing and Waning and each fortnight is divided into fourteen named days: Firstday through Fourteenthday.

  The length of years does not vary; all years are exactly three hundred and sixty-four days.

  The accounting of years is entirely arbitrary, varying with location and political and social circumstances, and although the Imperial system is generally accepted, there is no single universal standard.

  However, the following are in common use throughout the world:

  Thirdday of every fortnight is the holy day of all Gods.

  No day in the month of Harvestmoon is a holy day.

  Eighthday is the end of the merchant fiscal cycle.

  Summer Advent is the first day of First Summermoon and is in many locales celebrated as a special holy day.

  Units of measure of the Glorious Empire of the North:

  Manheight, armlength, fingerlength, thousandweight, hundredweight, tenweight, fiveweight, weight, tenthweight, fifthweight.

  Other regional units of measure exist.

  A note regarding names:

  Names are fundamental elements of ethereal flux and cannot be replicated. It is not possible for two people to have the same name. While this stricture is universally accepted as a social custom and likewise universally put into practice, most people do not realize that there is a direct ethereal cause.

  Designators that apply familial, parental, social, and clan or tribe affiliations
are not magical in nature.

  In the ancient age of magic, attempts were occasionally made to avoid this fundamental ethereal law by adding a unique second name to a copied name, but in such cases the ether always compelled an alternative pronunciation of the original. For example, Prim (unique) Olfew (copied) is always pronounced as Pri'lfew.

  In the modern age, while two names may have the same written spelling, they are never pronounced the same and are considered distinct.